


[Designation:Mine]

by auri_mynonys



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, Endearments, Exhibitionism, Falling In Love, First Time, Fluff, Getting Together, Lap Sex, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Rescue, Romance, Smut, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, beatin up a dude slipping date rape drugs to a cute smol archivist boy, no actual date rape occurs but it is implied that that was a background character's intention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-29 13:02:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19020460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auri_mynonys/pseuds/auri_mynonys
Summary: A little high grade, a little angst, and a whole lot of pining bring a Champion and an Archivist together after a near-death experience in the Pits of Kaon.





	1. [Designation:Friend]

**Author's Note:**

> SQUAD. I've spent too much time on this goddamn fic, reworking it so many times to get it where I want it. But I'm finally happy with it, so here you go: some extremely fluffy, only mildly angsty mutual pining and very decidedly resolved sexual tension.
> 
> I just love Megatronus/Orion Pax specifically. The entire concept of Megatron and Optimus as wee cute babies who haven't had to experience 4 million years of war against each other yet is so... pure. ald;aldfkjasd
> 
> I split this fic up into 6 parts for ease of reading.
> 
> Content Warnings: Implied date rape drugs and a near-miss with assault/date rape. Nothing graphic.

Champion’s Hall was far too grand a name for a dingy little bar like this one. Its lofty title was earned by luck, as it was the nearest oil house to the Pits of Kaon. Tucked away in a dark alley, its rusty door stood flanked by no less than four bouncers - former gladiators, all of them, too badly injured to continue fighting in the arena but too violent and moody to get a day job. The bar had earned a reputation as the primary watering hole for the Champions of the Pit, and thus, despite its many failings, it never lacked for patrons.

Even Megatronus, the Champion of Champions, found himself there sometimes.

He didn’t much care for the bar, really, when it came right down to it. Bar culture, and the loss of control it entailed, was repulsive to him. He, a mech who sought discipline in his every movement, saw such drunken revelry as a moral failing: an escape that led nowhere and achieved nothing. But regular visits to such desolate places were an ugly necessity of the work he sought to do. How else would he spread his message, recruit followers, stir the beginnings of a movement that would shake the very foundations of Cybertron? They would not come to him. He had to hunt for them himself: the disaffected and oppressed, the angry and the isolated, the bitter and the desperate.

He hoped, one day, to have acolytes beyond the lowlives whom he encountered so frequently in Champion’s Hall. But for now, the mechs he spoke with there served their purpose.

He’d intended to wander further afield that evening after another resounding victory - but fate, as ever, did not intend to play nice with him. Tonight’s victory had been anything _but_ resounding. Although he had still triumphed in the end, he had emerged from the arena with a scar across his helm, a melted shoulder plate, several fractured spinal struts, and a gash in his thigh that required three separate welds to fix. He’d spent at least two cycles in the medbay suffering through repairs while Soundwave ran errands for him.

An average mech would have been forced to call an end to their career over such injuries - but Megatronus was anything but average.

Even so, he felt pathetically off-balance as he walked the streets with Soundwave. There was a limp to his gait he couldn’t quite hide, pain flaring through his circuits with every step he took. Soundwave did his best to look unconcerned, but the way his cables hovered close to Megatronus’ waist spoke louder than any words his old friend might have said. _I am ready if you fall. You look as though you might._

Megatronus ground his dentae, glaring up at the flickering red lights that cast a dim pall over the street. He hadn’t wanted to go out at _all,_ if he was honest, but he’d had nothing else to distract him from the pain in his settling welds. He’d expected that Orion would be waiting for him, since he had been in the stands today; but at some point during the battle, Pax must have left.

_Some point._ Ha. Megatronus knew _exactly_ what point. He’d been knocked backwards with the force of Magmastorm’s slash to his helm and thigh, sliding halfway across the arena towards Orion’s seat. Processor spinning, a split second of panic filled him: that this was the end, that he was about to die, that he’d finally found a mech more powerful than himself. If he was a better mech - the mech he _should_ be - his thoughts would have been upon his fledgling movement, the oppressed that he would leave behind, the danger Soundwave would be in without his protection.

Instead, he thought of Orion.

He’d mustered the energy to crawl towards the archivist, to look up at him from the arena’s floor: meeting his gaze with wild optics. Orion stood above him, hands pressed to his mouth, optics shining with unshed tear fluid. He’d been lit just then by a spotlight, brilliant white: haloed like the Primes of old. Megatronus felt peace wash over him, a soft ease to the pain and panic in his spark.

_::If this is the end,::_ he commed to Orion, _::Let the last thing I see be you.::_

Orion must have made a sound: a shattered sob that had all around him staring. _::Don’t you dare::,_ Pax replied, pressing a fist to his mouth. _::Get up, Megatronus. Cybertron needs you._ **_I_ ** _need you. Get up and fight!::_

And just like that, time started again: a rush of sound and fury dragging Megatronus from the ground to his feet. Magmastorm barreled towards him, but he felt no fear. Orion Pax needed him. Cybertron needed him. He had work to do still, and he had no intention of dying a slave. He rose, roared across the arena, and spun to meet Magmastorm, as powerful as ever: driven by fury and hope and the desperate need to see and touch and be with Orion again.

To hear him say _I need you_ again.

He’d been crushingly disappointed when he returned to his quarters, only to find them empty. All the fierce joy of victory and the rush of pride that had dulled his pain pulsed away into nothingness, leaving only the agony of his freshly-welded wounds and another, deeper hurt. A hurt he didn’t want to examine too closely.

_::Pax: may simply be delayed::,_ Soundwave had said; but where would he have gone, and why? The match had ended cycles prior, and Pax should know better than to wander the streets of Kaon alone. No, Orion had clearly left, so put-off by what Megatronus had said to him that he couldn’t bear to remain.

Megatronus made a quiet, discontented noise, shrugging off the thought of Pax. It was fine. If Pax had weak tanks, then so be it. It seemed stupid for him to come all this way only to leave without even troubling himself to say hello, _especially_ given the way he’d said _I need you;_ but that was the clerk’s prerogative. It wasn’t like they had an _arrangement._

Even if Pax _always_ visited after Megatronus’ matches. Even if he _always_ waited for Megatronus to come home. Even if he _always_ stayed the night.

Even if Megatronus had come within inches of saying _I love you,_ there on the brink of death.

No, it was fine. It was _fine._ Megatronus certainly hadn’t ordered Soundwave to pull out blankets for the couch in his quarters while the arena’s best medic mended his helm; and he absolutely had not sent Soundwave to get Orion’s favorite brand of energon goodies from a shop down the street. He hadn’t asked Soundwave to make sure they were in a bowl this time, the _nice_ one, the one that looked like it was made of iridescent crystal even though it was merely a cheap knock-off. He definitely _had not_ asked Soundwave if he’d heard anything from Orion when he returned from the medbay to an empty habsuite.

His processor reeled with all the things he had not done. All the things Soundwave was good enough not to mention doing for him, for Pax.

**Orion.Pax[Designation:Mine]=missing,** his HUD helpfully supplied.

**Locate Orion.Pax[Designation:Precious.Beloved]?**

**Orion.Pax[Designation:Mine.MyDesire]=TrackingDetailMissing{Error code 8898809}**

Megatronus dismissed the suggestion, sourly noting the affectionate tags assigned to the clerk. He’d never deliberately given Orion any such designations, but he’d thought them often enough that a list had auto-generated, coding Orion as something more than what he was.

Something more than he would ever be.

**CMD: QUERY: [ORION.PAX] + [TAGGED AS]**

**Orion.Pax**

**Designation:**

**Mine**

**MySparksLight**

**MyForever**

**SweetOne**

**Pet**

**Precious**

**Beloved**

**Darling**

**Mate**

**Sweetspark**

**LittleArchivist**

**MyOwn [...]**

Megatronus cringed as the list went onward: a series of endearments he’d never even said aloud. Primus, let him _never_ say those words aloud. Some of them he didn’t even remember _thinking._ The list was hideously embarrassing, a gross excess of sentiment he could not afford. Not as a gladiator. Not as the Champion of Kaon.

Especially not over one mech.

**CMD: DELETE: [ORION.PAX] + [TAGGED AS {ALL TAGS}]**

**CMD: REPLACE: [ORION.PAX] + [TAGGED AS {ALL TAGS}]=WITH [DESIGNATION:FRIEND].**

**ALL TAGS WILL BE DELETED AND REPLACED WITH [DESIGNATION:FRIEND]. DO YOU WISH TO PROCEED?**

A light touch on his arm drew him back to the streets. Megatronus cast a glance at Soundwave. The silent mech’s helm tilted, displaying a frowning face on his visor.

_::Megatronus: not required to do this.::_

“What a lovely thought,” Megatronus growled. “But as torturous as this farce of an evening promises to be, it will be better than brooding alone in my quarters for the night.”

Soundwave’s visor went blank, a vague sound of disapproval playing at low volume. _::Soundwave: can attempt to locate Pax if desired.::_

“No,” Megatronus said flatly. “No, if Pax has more _important_ places to be, far be it for me to intrude. I’m sure a simple gladiator like myself would struggle to understand the complexities of an archivist’s busy schedule.”

Soundwave’s visor flashed, and another expression appeared: “🙄”

Wonderful. On top of everything else that had gone wrong today, Soundwave was sassing him. “Your attitude is not appreciated, Soundwave,” Megatronus snapped. “I’m _fine._ What Pax chooses to do with his spare time is clearly not my concern. And you can tell him so if you happen to find him.”

Soundwave swiveled his helm, replying: “🙄🙄🙄🙄”

“You are incredibly fortunate I owe you my spark several times over,” Megatronus grumbled, glaring into the mech’s visored face. “Were you any other mech, I would crush your helm with one servo for that.”

Soundwave turned to face forward again, his cables gently guiding Megatron around a pothole in the street. _::Megatronus: is not angry with Soundwave. Megatronus: is angry with Pax for abandoning protocol.::_

Megatronus huffed, well aware that he sounded like a sparkling who had been denied a treat. “What protocol? There _is_ no protocol,” he said. His spark clenched at the words, squeezing tight inside his chest plates. “He just... always stays. Has never _not_ stayed.” Saying it out loud made it seem stupid and petty: the kind of jealous anger Megatronus had no right to feel.

Orion Pax wasn’t his to feel jealous over. He’d made it clear by leaving that he didn’t want Megatronus anyway.

“I made an assumption,” Megatronus said, gritting his dentae. “A foolish and misguided one. Pax is a free mech - he can do as he likes. He owes me nothing.”

Soundwave reached up and patted Megatronus’ shoulder sympathetically. _::Megatronus: should consider asking Pax for an arrangement.::_

“No,” Megatronus sighed. “No, but thank you, Soundwave. Orion is… he…” He vented heavily into the dank air of the street. “He deserves far more than I can ever give him. We are... better off for this, I think.”

Soundwave patted him again, soft and worried. _::Megatronus: should not push himself while sad and wounded. Megatronus: should rest.::_

Megatronus chuckled, a mirthless, hollow sound. “I'll rest when my spark is extinguished, and not a moment sooner,” he said. “How can I sit idle when there is work to be done?” He smiled, a thin, sarcastic quirk of his lips. "Besides, I would so hate to disappoint my public."

Soundwave made another sound, a peculiar static buzz that Megatronus could only describe as _scoffing -_ but he didn’t trouble himself to argue further. He knew the real reason Megatronus wanted to be among the people.

If he sat there alone in his empty quarters, he’d think too much about Orion. And if he thought too much about Orion, he’d have to admit how he felt for the mech: that soft, tender, aching swell he loathed and saw as weakness. That _sentiment_ that had auto-created every last damnable endearment for Pax. He’d have to admit that he was angry and sparkbroken that Orion Pax had heard the words _::Let the last thing I see be you::_ and gone running.

No, this was better. This was _important._ Megatronus had work to do, and that mattered far more than some flighty little archivist from the gilded libraries of Iacon.

The gladiator vented softly, made one small change, and gave a command on his HUD.

**ALL TAGS FOR [ORION.PAX] DELETED.**

**DESIGNATION:ACQUAINTANCE ASSIGNED.**

**DESIGNATION:FRIEND REMOVED.**


	2. [FOLDER:UNSENT]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A drunk and brooding Orion isn't sure the mech who's feeding him drinks has the best intentions.

Orion Pax had never been this drunk.

He’d had high grade once or twice in his young life, on special occasions or out of politeness while drinking with friends; but he’d never felt like _this_ before. His processor was dizzy and wild and warm, every thought a whirlwind that tripped over itself and fell into the next. His words felt heavy as the strongest ore, falling from his glossa without order, and the world around him seemed to dance, a brilliant wave of color and sound he couldn’t begin to make sense of.

He was… at a bar. A bar that was close to the Pits. There was a match happening, and Megatronus was there, and Megatronus was _hurt,_ and -

Orion shuddered, whatever he’d been saying aloud drying up in his intake. Megatronus was fine. He had to be fine. Even if he’d been hit again and again and again… even if that gash on his leg and the crack across his helm seemed almost to take him down… there was no one in the whole universe as strong as Megatronus.

He was fine. He had to be. If he wasn't…

_::Cybertron needs you._ **_I_ ** _need you!::_

**[In FOLDER:UNSENT]** _::I can’t bear the thought of a world without you in it.::_

“You alright there, sweetie? Here. Have another sip.”

A cool cube pushed its way against his mouth, and Orion obediently swallowed. What was he drinking again? It was sickly sweet and sharp, and it made his frame flare warm and tingly. His tanks groaned, unhappy with the amount of high grade they were attempting to process; but even when Orion spluttered, the liquid didn’t stop, not until the cube was empty.

“There’s a good boy,” a voice cooed. Orion lifted his head, squinting at the blurry shape of the mech who’d just fed him. He was green and yellow and had the symbol of the Archives stamped on his shoulder, though the badge was a bit rusty. Orion focused on that symbol, poking it with a small frown. Why was he giving Orion drinks? Why was Orion drinking them? Were they friends? He didn’t remember meeting him.

_Crosscase. His name’s Crosscase._

The mech called Crosscase laid a friendly hand on Orion’s knee, heavy and hot, and Orion jerked away, nearly tumbling off the bar stool in his effort to escape.

“Shh, shh,” Crosscase soothed. “Orion, hold still. It’s alright. I’m taking care of you. Don’t be scared.”

Orion frowned, gripping the edge of the bar. He needed to focus. He needed to remember what he was doing here, why he was sitting with this mech. Why the mech just kept on _touching_ him, as if they were close friends.

Orion’s spark squeezed tight inside his chest. _Close friends. Like brothers. Megatronus._ By the Primes, he hoped Megatronus was alright. His processor began to loop an image: a memory file from the fight that night. Megatronus taking a slash across his leg. A spray of bright blue energon standing stark against the glossy metal floor. Terror choking him as Megatronus stumbled. Megatronus falling, turning, seeking out Orion’s face among the crowd. _::If this is the end,::_ he’d commed, _::let the last thing I see be you::._

Orion choked on an agonized sound. He’d replied, begged, pleaded: _get up, Megatronus, you have to get up, I need you!_ And then he’d almost said something forbidden, words he’d choked on for what felt like centuries:

**[In FOLDER:UNSENT]** _::Please don’t go. I love you.::_

He couldn’t bear to watch the rest of the fight, even when Megatronus stood with a ferocious snarl; even when he’d charged Magmastorm with all the fury of an elder god, as though he bore no wounds at all. That was no promise that Megatronus would survive, only that he was alive for now. Orion had run from the arena to wait things out... run straight to this bar and ordered a drink, hoping it would calm his shuddering nerves. Hoping it would wipe the image of a fallen Megatronus from his neural net.

What if he had to watch Megatronus die? What if he had to witness Megatronus’ spark go dark - unable to scream or cry or say anything about what Megatronus was to him?

_And what is he to you, Orion? A friend? A mentor?_

_A lover?_

He hiccuped, choking on a sob as his optics began to leak fluid. _Only in my dreams._

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Crosscase said. His voice was grating in Orion’s audials, dragging him back to an unpleasant reality from an even _more_ unpleasant internal monologue. “We’re having a nice time, aren’t we?”

Orion hiccuped again, lifting his optics to Crosscase. The mech was smiling, but not kindly: like oil and water, gesture and intention completely separate from one another. Orion narrowed his optics. “Why’re you here?” he slurred. “I have to… I need t’go - someone’s...”

“We were talking about your research, sweetie. Have another drink.”

“I’m-m-fine,” Orion said, pushing the proffered cube away. “I don’t w-want any.”

“But you were so thirsty earlier,” said Crosscase. “Come on, just have a little sip for me.”

Orion blinked, but he couldn’t _think._ His whole neural net felt like static, humming with a noise so loud he could barely hear the other mech over it. He realized dully that there were _outside_ sounds too, big ones: the overlapping frequencies of hundreds of voices all trying to make themselves heard. Someone shoved past him, jostling his arm. Orion blinked. The bar was so full! When had that happened? He didn’t remember this many people being here before…

“Orion. Look at me.”

Orion turned his helm, optics huge and surprised. Crosscase pressed another cube to his lips, and he sipped from it obediently, feeling the other mech’s fingers grip the back of his helm. “There’s a good mech,” Crosscase said. “What a good boy.”

Orion hated the way that sounded coming out of Crosscase’s intakes. “‘Mnot a dog,” he rumbled, glaring over the edge of the cube. “Let _go._ ‘Msposed to… ‘sposed to see Megatron - Megatron - Mega _tron_ us!” That last syllable seemed like an impossible barrier, the designation too long and too difficult to get around with his fuzzy glossa.

“Sure you are, honey,” Crosscase chuckled, petting the top of Orion’s helm. That felt nice. Maybe Megatronus would like it if he petted his helm. Maybe he should try it when he saw him. They tried not to touch very often, although it seemed to happen anyway: a hug Orion couldn’t quite hold back, Megatronus’ hand on his shoulder several beats too long. Enough to make Orion’s spark start skipping…

“How are you feeling?” Crosscase asked, still petting Orion’s helm. “You ready to go yet?”

“Go?” Orion said. He was dizzy and miserable and he ached for sleep, for Megatronus’ couch - for the gladiator’s scent all around him. “The match - izzit over?”

“Don’t worry about that,” the mech soothed. “Why don’t you tell me more about this… research you’ve been doing?”

_Don’t talk about Megatronus don’t talk about Megatronus don’t talk about Megatronus._ “Gladiators,” Orion said, with a frown of deep concentration. “I’m… res-s-searching subcultures of Cybertron. Fighter culture. Can’t learn about it without… _hic…_ without seeing it up close.” He gestured to his optics with two fingers, pointing them to Crosscase and then back to his own optics, just to emphasize the point.

“Uh huh.” Why did his new friend sound so bored? He was the one who was asking. Orion just wanted to get back to the arena. Maybe sit in the washracks for a minute. Cold water on his frame sounded so nice. He could sit there for a little while, just until Megatronus got back, and then he could recharge.

Oh, no, would Megatronus let him stay while he was like this? Would he be angry with him for getting so drunk? He hoped not. A flush of embarrassment went through him. He didn’t want Megatronus to see him like this, all confused and stupid and sappy. His tongue would trip him up and he’d say something he shouldn’t, he’d tell Megatronus he loved him and he’d never - he’d never see Megatronus again, he’d lose him forever...

“And how’s that going for you?”

“What?” Orion’s head felt like lead: too heavy for the rest of his body.

“Your research,” Crosscase said patiently. “How’s it going?”

Orion’s finials perked, flicking upward in excitement. “Oh! Good!” His research! He loved to talk about that. That was safe, wasn’t it? He could focus on the politics of the arena, the institutional oppression that had created the social strata of the gladiatorial sphere, the special form of economics practiced among fighters. _Hic._ “I talk to lotsa gladiators. Their soc-sh-sh-shialization... amazing. Their bartery thingy they do… amazing. Megatronus? Amazing.”

“You really have a thing for Megatronus, huh?” the other mech chuckled. “I mean, I don’t blame you. He’s the Champion of Kaon, after all. Do you ever talk to him?”

_Yes. All the time. Sometimes I dream about fragging him._ “S-sometimes,” Orion said, stuttering over the word. “When he’s free. He’s… he’s very _busy_ and _important._ ”

“Yeah, figures.” The mech beside him took a drink of what looked to be regular energon. Orion wondered if maybe he could have a sip. It might calm his angry tanks, make him feel less faint. “Bet he can tell you have a little crush on him.”

_Oh Primus please no._ “Don’t have a crush,” Orion said angrily. “Megatron - Megatron - _Megatronus_ knows that. He’s very smart. He knows everything about everything. He can quote all the old philosophers even, like S-strikesteel and Phalanx and - ”

“Have another drink, Orion.” Orion grimaced. He didn’t _want_ another drink. He wanted to get out of here and curl up in a little ball on Megatronus’ couch and make Megatronus pet his helm and maybe purge his tanks -

“How would you like to get some rest?”

Orion nodded. “Rest… yes,” he said.

“How about at my place?”

Orion paused, finials flicking. “N-no,” he said. “Gotta go - go to the gladiators’ quarters - ”

“No, you don’t,” his companion soothed, petting his helm again. Oh, that was nice. He had to remember to ask Megatronus to do this. Maybe. If it wouldn’t be weird. Oh, it would be weird, wouldn’t it? Another thing to save for his daydreams, then. “You need to come with me. I’ve spent a lot of money on you, you know. You wouldn’t want to be _rude,_ would you?”

“I…” No, of course Orion didn’t want to be rude, but he hadn’t asked for any of the drinks he’d been given. “But…”

A clamor of shouting drowned him out: every voice in the bar rising into elated cheers. Orion winced and pressed his hands to his audials. So _loud!_ Why was everyone _shouting,_ what could possibly have inspired such a reaction? Everyone needed to be _quiet._ Just for a minute. Just until he could get his processor to stop ringing.

“Well, well,” said Crosscase, lightly patting Orion’s head. “Looks like your boy dropped by for a visit. Gotta say I’m surprised after all the damage he took tonight. Magmastorm almost had him, I thought - but somehow he always pulls through.”

_My boy?_ Orion lifted his helm, swiveling unsteadily in his seat to squint at the door. _What boy? Who is he talking about? I don’t have a -_

A thud of heavy footsteps, and Orion forgot what Crosscase had said - forgot how drunk he was, forgot the high grade heavy in his tanks, forgot everything. He knew the sound of those pedes. He knew that gait, even though it was a few beats off from normal.

A smile broke out on his face as he saw a familiar, welcome faceplate staring at him from across the bar.

“ _Megatronus!_ ”


	3. [ENEMY]=toTERMINATE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's never wise to target the best friend of a gladiator. Especially when that gladiator harbors secret feelings for said best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: this chapter contains a character discussing date rape and implying he intended to rape someone.
> 
> He gets the shit beat out of him, though, so if you're here for that, read on :)

Once, there had been a time when Megatronus had dreamed of this: the wild adoration of hundreds of mechs, all screaming and shouting for him. Believing in him. Begging for his attention. He’d earn enough winnings to buy his way out, and he’d take his followers with him: all the way to the spires of Iacon, to the Senate chamber, to the seat of the Primacy itself.

Tonight, the lurid, drunken shouts of his fans merely exhausted him.

He cast a menacing gaze over the throng, straightening his back and struggling to hide the flinch that crossed his face when he did. His spinal struts sang in agony, bright sparks of pain lancing through his circuits. _Steady. Steady, Megatronus. You’ve survived worse._

The bar’s proprietor, Hazard, zoomed over to greet him. She was a minibot and flier with four arms and, rumor had it, optics installed on the back of her helm: a deceiver, a businesswoman, and a bit of a genius. Megatronus had to admit a certain begrudging admiration for her.

“Welcome, Megatronus!” she said, wearing a brilliant smile. “Am I glad to see you! Wasn’t expecting you to grace my doorstep for another few quartexes. You put on quite the show tonight! Your fans were thrilled to see you live through it.”

“Did you expect any less?” Megatronus waved Soundwave off as the mech hovered behind him. “Dismissed, Soundwave. I know how you dislike the crowds.”

_::Soundwave: will be stationed in northeast corner if needed.::_

It was amusing to watch Soundwave’s progress through the bar. Though its patrons parted for Megatronus with awe and reverence, they moved away from Soundwave like he carried a virus: diving aside and tripping over one another in the rush to get out of his way. These mechs feared Megatronus, but they admired him too. Soundwave they simply feared.

_Ah, for the simpler times, when both of us could move anonymously through crowds like these._

“You’ve certainly proven your strength just by coming out here,” Hazard was saying, floating near Megatronus’ shoulder. “I thought you’d be in the medbay for days.”

“You wound me, dear Hazard,” Megatronus drawled. He turned and started towards the bar itself, his first step causing the crowd to stand aside in hushed admiration. “You should know by now that I am not to be discounted so lightly.”

“You’re just full of surprises, Champion,” she said with a laugh. “Drink? It’s on the house.”

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have even entertained the notion; but high grade did sound nice. Something to ease the pain zipping through his back and leg. Something to help him forget about Pax. “Well, if the house is buying…”

Hazard grinned and flitted in front of him, hovering a few feet away from his faceplates as he walked. “Always happy to play host to your illustrious self, Megatronus,” she said. “Fair warning though - the bar’s a bit messy at the moment. I wasn’t expecting you, and Crosscase is working a target up there.”

Ugh. Megatronus was passingly familiar with Crosscase: a burly green and yellow mech who couldn’t cut it in the Pits, who stole and scrimped and cheated his way into a living. He liked to find targets for his thievery and unpleasant interface-related proclivities at bars like Hazard’s, using a drug he’d stolen from a lab and then synthesized independently to befuddle his victims’ neural nets. Megatronus had learned how it worked from Soundwave and had promptly put firewalls in place to protect against such catastrophe. After all, Crosscase could make quite a lot of shanix from taking Megatronus out of the game. Megatronus wasn’t about to risk it.

“I don’t know why you let that slagstain into your bar,” Megatronus grumbled. “He besmirches this establishment simply by passing over its doorstep.”

“I’m sure he’d be honored to hear you think so,” Hazard said with a giggle. “But hey, he pays well and never has an overdue bill. Gotta take the shanix while they come, don’t we?” The minibot gave a regretful sigh. “Too bad, really. The kid he’s picked up seems nice. Some fancy Iaconian mech, works in the Archives, I think.”

Megatronus’ spark stuttered and then skipped, a blinking red alert appearing on his HUD:

**Orion.Pax[Designation:Acquaintance. ~~Friend.Mine~~** **]** =victim? **QUERY:** PoseTo **Hazard[Designation:Acquaintance** **]**.

“You might want to find a quiet corner to settle into for the moment,” Hazard was saying. “Not ideal for giving speeches, of course, but for _drinking_ \- ”

“Did you say _Iaconian?_ ” Megatronus asked. His optics narrowed sharply, plating giving an ominous rustle. “Blue and red? Doing research on gladiators, perhaps?”

Hazard made a small, nervous sound. “Do you _know_ him?” she said. “I thought I heard him mention your name a few times, but I gotta be honest - Crosscase has got him _real_ blitzed out on his little formula, so I only caught about 44.2168% of what he said.”

Megatronus’ fists clenched so tight his claws punctured his palms. “Where?” he snarled, his field crackling with angry static.

Hazard zoomed backwards, holding up all four hands in a gesture of peace. “Don’t get mad at me!” she said. “He’s right there, take a look if you like - ”

Hazard swept aside, and Megatronus’ stare fell onto a very, _very_ drunk Orion Pax.

He took a moment to take in the scene: a collection of empty cubes littering the bar in front of Pax, Crosscase sitting beside him. Crosscase wore a badge from the Archives that was not unlike Pax’s, though it was obviously looted from somewhere else - probably a rusty corpse found in a junkyard. Orion was too trusting to notice that. He didn’t know danger when it looked him in the eye.

Probably the only reason he was friends with Megatronus, really.

Crosscase was saying something, staring at Megatronus with the same awe as the rest of the bar’s patrons. Orion lifted his head, blue optics glitching and buzzing as they attempted to focus in on him, until -

Megatronus knew, down to the exact milli-klik, when Orion recognized him. His optics ceased to glitch, going wide and bright and brilliant. He shot up in his seat, finials flicking upwards as the biggest smile Megatronus had _ever_ seen from him crossed his faceplate. His field expanded so much that Megatronus could feel it halfway across the room: a hum of pure joy that enfolded him like an embrace.

The emotion Megatronus had been desperately attempting to squash bloomed bright and tender in his chest.

**Orion.Pax=[Mine]?[Mine.Mine.Mine.Mine.Mine-]**

“ _Megatronus!_ ” Orion lurched off the bar stool with an elated cry, glossa tripping over the last syllable of his name. He all but hurled himself into the open space between the bar and the gladiator, unsteady on his pedes; and before Megatronus could even stop to think about it, he’d already started to cross that same distance, prepared to catch the clerk before he fell. _Always, forever, never let you fall,_ **Pax.Mine.Beloved** _-_

Orion made a static-laden sound as he was suddenly wrenched backwards, mere feet from reaching the gladiator. Megatronus caught sight of Crosscase’s yellow hands gripping the clerk around the waist, dragging him away: pulling him towards the dark back of the bar. Orion made a mournful sound, optics flaring and fading in wild, erratic cycles as he thrashed in the mech’s grip. “N-no, wait, _wait -_ ”

**Orion.Pax[Designation:Mine]=inDANGER**

**Crosscase[Designation: ~~Acquaintance.~~ ENEMY]=toTERMINATE **

“That’s enough of that,” said Crosscase, swinging Orion around as if he weighed nothing; an impressive feat, for Orion was not a small mech, regardless of how often Megatronus called him _little archivist._ “You’re coming with me.”

“ _N-nnno,_ ” Orion slurred, struggling against him. Crosscase pushed him further away, even as Orion reached back for Megatronus with a desperate servo. “No, let me _go -_ leave me _alone,_ I want _Megatronus -_ ”

Megatronus’ spark clenched inside its housing, a possessive, angry ache stampeding through his lines. _He was here, he was only detained, he wants me,_ **_he wants me -_ **

Crosscase grunted, kicking the back of Orion’s knee joints. Orion’s legs collapsed beneath him, and he stumbled and fell, dragged along in Crosscase’s grip despite his larger size. A few patrons cast a disdainful glance their way, but turned aside again the moment they realized Orion wasn’t someone they knew. They had no interest in sticking their necks out for someone who wasn’t one of their own. Even Hazard was just going to let Crosscase do whatever he wanted to Orion: assault him, beat him, steal anything of value from him, _murder him -_  

“I didn’t spend three cycles getting you this toasted just to lose you to a gladiator,” Crosscase snarled, as Orion struggled and kicked at the floor. “Primus, you’re strong for a clerk. Can’t _believe_ the slag I’ve been feeding you hasn’t taken full effect…”

Megatronus growled low in his intake, his plating flaring into attack mode. Those mechs who were standing near him heard the sound and dove out of the way, parting in a wave for him; and those who hadn’t heard looked up in confusion, saw Megatronus’ smoldering glare, and quickly followed suit.

He was across the room to Crosscase in ten nano-kliks flat, one hand snapping out and clamping over the vile mech's helm. Crosscase yelped in terror, dropping Orion to claw at the servo that held him. Orion stumbled and fell forward, only just missing a table of patrons and falling into Soundwave instead. Thank Primus, he’d heard the commotion and come over at once, already prepared to sweep Orion out of danger and back Megatronus up if needed.

**Orion.Pax[Designation:Mine]=safe.**

Megatronus smiled grimly, shifted his grip to Crosscase’s intake, and _squeezed._

“What the _frag -_ ” the mech wheezed, reaching back with one hand to slap at Megatronus’ arm. “Let go -!”

Megatronus growled, spinning Crosscase around before reasserting his grip on the mech’s throat. In one smooth sweep, despite his screaming shoulder, he lifted the mech up, holding him aloft like a trophy. The entire bar fell silent as Crosscase kicked and wailed, struggling against the Champion of Kaon - uselessly, of course, for he was no match for Megatronus in strength _or_ size.

“Tell me, Crosscase,” Megatronus said, his voice so soft as to be barely heard. “Why should I spare your pathetic little spark? I’ve attempted to list the reasons and come up with _nothing._ Convenient, I suppose, as you yourself are about ten nano-kliks from being _returned_ to nothing.”

“Sir!” Crosscase gasped, going slack in Megatronus’ grip. “Champion, I’ve always had the _utmost_ respect for you! I’ve never deliberately tried to hurt you or yours. Anyone under your protection is one hundred percent safe with me, I swear - ”

“Then what exactly were you planning to do with my…”

**[Designation:Beloved.Lover.SweetOne.Darling]**

“... friend?” he finished.

“What, _him?_ ” Crosscase kicked a pede in Orion’s direction: poor, scared, shivering Orion, held steady only by Soundwave’s cables keeping him upright. “That one’s one of yours? What use do _you_ have for an archiv- ”

He paused and fell silent, one of the most unpleasant smiles Megatronus had ever encountered spreading across the mech’s face. “Oh,” Crosscase said. “I _see._ You and I had the same idea about him, I guess. He _is_ awfully pretty, isn’t he? That shoulder-to-waist ratio is  _sinful._ I could barely wait to get my servos on him. I guess I’d kill a mech too if I owned him and someone else tried to get into his panels.”

Megatronus actually _roared,_ fury so potent that it became physical: bursts of electric lightning crackling over his huge frame. With all the force of a practiced gladiator, he hurled Crosscase through a wall, smashing it to pieces as the mech skidded through broken metal and concrete.

“Megatronus!” Hazard shrieked. “Don’t you wreck my bar!”

Megatronus cast her a glare so withering she sank behind a case of drinks with a cry of terror. “If you wanted your business in one piece, Hazard, you shouldn’t have stood by and allowed this _slag_ through your door,” he hissed.

“The mech is escaping,” Soundwave warned, in several different voices: a hurried series of clips roughly joined together. It was the best he could do on short notice, but it served.

Megatronus snarled, spinning around to face Orion’s assaulter. Crosscase crawled through the rubble the wall had left behind, desperately attempting to get to his feet. Megatronus stormed the few yards between them and set his huge pede on top of the mech’s back, slowly laying the entirety of his weight on him.

“ _No - please_ \- ” Crosscase cried out, clawing at the floor. “Please, Megatronus sir, you can take him if you want, he’s nice and wasted already, he’ll be easy - ”

“Don’t you _dare_ speak of Orion Pax like some buymech you pulled off the street,” Megatronus hissed. He could hear Crosscase’s joints groaning, feel the metal beneath his foot straining against him. “And don’t you dirty my designation by implying that I would _ever_ use such underhanded means to take what I desire. You will pay with your spark for what you attempted to do here.”

Crosscase made a sound, a low, burbling noise that heralded a cracking in his torso. “Please…” he begged. “I didn’t know, I swear I didn’t know he was yours - ”

“And now you do.” Megatronus bent, despite the howling of his back, and closed one hand around the mech’s throat. “A pity you won’t live long enough to learn a lesson from it.”

Megatronus tightened his grip: then, slowly, he dragged Crosscase's helm upwards.

The sound of wiring stretching and metal plates shrieking as they were pulled inexorably apart echoed around the still, silent room. Megatronus grinned, squeezing harder. Oh, he was going to enjoy this: watching the mech’s intake separate, tearing in tiny increments until energon began to leak… Crosscase screaming in agony as Megatronus came closer and closer to ripping his helm straight off -

“Megatronus!” Orion cried, squirming out of Soundwave’s grip. “Don’t!”

_Damn him to the Pit._ Megatronus hissed and turned to Orion, watching his unsteady approach. “Don’t… what, Pax?” he asked, barely clinging to his last shred of patience. “This mech intended to drag you back to his quarters to assault you, and Primus knows what else. He does not deserve your pity.”

Orion stared, looking at Crosscase with wide, betrayed optics. “He… he said he only wanted to know about my research…” he stuttered. “I was sad because you were hurt and I was afraid, and I was drinking, and he said he’d help me take my mind off things, he…”

“I know,” Megatronus said softly, pressing harder on Crosscase’s back with his pede. Crosscase wailed, the sound abruptly cut off when Megatronus squeezed his intake. “I know, Orion. But he _lied._ He intended to harm you. I am merely meting out the appropriate punishment.”

“This?” Orion stabbed an angry finger at the mech beneath his pede. “This - this is _arena_ justice. Not _real_ justice. He didn’t - didn’t fully hurt me, so - ”

“So… what?” Megatronus demanded, plating rustling in anger. “You would spare the mech who intended to assault you? You would grant this worthless monster his life, even though he doesn’t deserve it?”

Orion nearly fell over, but still he nodded, fierce and certain. “Yes,” he said, without hesitation. “Better to let him live free and maybe choose to do better than to take the choice away entirely.”

Despite the way his voice glitched throughout it, the phrase was well-spoken. Megatronus stared at him, caught between fury and admiration, wishing for a moment that Orion wasn’t so soft.

But would he love Orion Pax if he was anything other than himself?

Megatronus growled and removed his pede from Crosscase’s back, dragging the mech to his feet. “You have approximately two kliks to remove yourself from this establishment before I tear off your filthy, wandering hands. _Do I make myself clear_?”

Crosscase whimpered, shuddering. “Sure, yes, ok, whatever you say Megatronus, whatever you want - ”

Megatronus shoved the glitch away from him, so hard that the smaller mech rammed into a table. “Good,” he said. “Now, get out of my sight, before I crush your brain module with my bare servos. And if I _ever_ see you again, I will tear you limb from limb. That’s a promise, Crosscase.”

Wisely, Crosscase turned tail and fled, running past the crowd of gawking patrons and towards the door.

Megatronus followed his progress with narrowed optics, knowing that this wouldn’t be the end; that Crosscase would want vengeance. That he would find another victim, even if it wasn't someone they knew. Even one extra day alive did more harm than good, for everyone.

_::Follow him, Soundwave,::_ Megatronus ordered. _::And when he is isolated enough, finish him.::_

_::Soundwave: will do what must be done.::_

_::Thank you, old friend.::_

Air seemed to rush back into the bar as Megatronus’ shoulders relaxed, his field pulling back towards his frame. All his raw, untempered rage bled out of him at once, and he turned his helm back towards Orion: sweet Orion, who was shaking and upset. Gentle Orion, who was drunk and scared and yet still had chosen to save his would-be attacker’s life.

Orion, the archivist, whom he loved more than anything.

Megatronus crossed the space between them in the time it took for his spark to rotate, sweeping Orion up from the floor and into his arms. Orion made a low, surprised sound, clinging tight to Megatronus' intake. Megatronus turned towards the door, holding Orion close, and realized belatedly that the entire bar was staring at him: hundreds of optics all locked on him, holding Orion Pax like he was precious. Like Pax  _belonged_ to him.

_Well, he does,_ a dark voice whispered, somewhere deep in Megatronus’ neural net. _Orion Pax is_ **_mine._  ** _Primus help the mech who tries to take him from me._

Megatronus glared at the crowd of onlookers, optics smoldering. “I suggest you move,” he growled. “Unless a third of you would enjoy being turned to paste under my pedes.”

Amazing how quickly that earned him results. A path cleared, and Megatronus wasted no time storming out of Champion’s Hall and into the quiet dark, Orion still cradled close to his chest.


	4. [QUERY:=CLAIM?]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the walk home from the bar, some truths are revealed.

The silence of Kaon's streets was a welcome relief after the chaos of Champion’s Hall. Megatronus paused a moment to appreciate it, grimacing at the twinge in his spinal struts as he shifted his grip on Orion. Under normal circumstances, he was certain he could carry Pax like he weighed nothing at all, despite their frames being a comparable size. Megatronus was taller and broader, even if only by a meter or so, and he was the stronger of the two by a mile.

He’d always pictured carrying Pax like this under more… pleasurable circumstances.

“Mega?” Orion’s voice was very small, even as it rumbled against Megatronus’ chest. “Are you alright?”

Megatronus glanced at Orion, a small smile curving his mouth despite his temper. Orion’s eyes weren’t glitching as much now, and his frame had stopped shivering so violently. He looked - comfortable, if a bit nervous. “I’m fine,” Megatronus said, leaning in to nudge Orion’s helm with his own. “Are  _you_ alright?”

“I… think so.” Orion bit his lip. “You were hurt.”

Megatronus shrugged, swallowing a small hiss as pain flowered in his back. “It was nothing,” he said dismissively.

“No,” Orion said. His voice rose, accusing and angry, optics narrowing to slim blue slits. “You were hurt and I couldn’t - I couldn’t help you _-_ and you _s_ ent me that message and I couldn’t just - I couldn’t stop thinking about - ”

He made a choking noise and stopped, swallowing the words before they could escape him; but Megatronus knew what he’d meant. _I couldn’t stop thinking about your death. About what it would mean. About having to watch._

Megatronus tightened his grip on Orion. “Yes, well.” He smiled, dry and absent of any real joy. “You were _quite_ the inspiration. I couldn’t die knowing how disappointed you’d be not to see me after the match.” An accusatory note snuck its way into his words, even as he tried to douse it. “Imagine my surprise when I returned to find you gone.”

Orion’s helm snapped up, optics cycling wide and anxious. “I didn’t mean to leave you!”  he said. “I just - I couldn’t stand by and watch while you… while you…” Orion choked on a sorrowful sound, staring up into Megatronus’ face, seeking reassurance. “If you died - if I was the _last thing you saw -_ I can’t, I can’t do this without you, I can’t - ”

Megatronus felt his resolve crumbling in the face of that wide-eyed, sparkbroken stare. He wanted to be angry still: wanted to hold on to that tiny, flickering flame of rage that had always kept him from faltering. But how could he, when Pax looked so _frightened_ for him; when Orion so clearly hadn’t meant to abandon him?

Primus, Megatronus loved him. The words sparked like static on his glossa, threatening to burst forth: but Megatronus tucked them away, all but choking on them as he shifted his grip. “Luckily for you, I don’t intend to die a slave to the whims of a bloodthirsty populace,” he said lightly. “They’ll have to work much harder to get rid of me than that.”

“It’s not funny, Mega,” Orion said fiercely. _Mega._ Hmm. They both appeared to be handing out endearments rather freely this evening. Megatronus filed that fact away for later examination. “I can’t lose you. I can’t. To even think about it - ”

“Then don’t,” Megatronus murmured, pressing his forehelm back to Orion’s. “Don’t think about it, sweet one.”

Orion shivered and gripped him tight around his intake, clinging to him as if the gladiator might disappear like so much smoke on the wind. “Mega, I want to go home,” Orion said. He smoothed his hand over the surface of Megatronus' helm, like he was - like he was _petting_ him.

It felt… nice, actually. Soothing. Megatronus leaned into the touch. “Back to Iacon?” he said. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’ll be alone in your habsuite, and while you're in this state, that isn't safe. I would feel more comfortable if I knew you were close.”

“No, not Iacon,” Orion said, frowning. _“Home._ Your quarters.”

Megatronus’ spark stalled out inside his chest, his intake catching on a vent. _Home._ Orion thought of Megatronus’ quarters as _home._ He associated Megatronus with _home._ “Oh,” he said, barely able to get the word out. “Yes. Home. We're almost halfway there, sweet one. I'll have you home soon, I promise.”

“Mmm.” The sweet little note hummed quietly against Megatronus’ audial as Orion leaned in close, nuzzling his faceplate against Megatronus’ helm. Megatronus bit down on an ever-present spark of hope. It meant nothing. Pax was just like this: deeply affectionate, always touching without realizing how it _felt_ to be touched like that. “I’m… dizzy, a bit,” Orion said. “Processor hurts.”

Oh, dear. Megatronus snarled. _I should have ripped Crosscase’s helm off when I had the chance._ “Alright. It’s alright, sweet one. We’re close anyhow. Let’s get you to berth, shall we?”

Orion clung to his neck, frame instantly heating. “To berth?”

“Yes...” Megatronus paused, casting the clerk a curious look. “Why?”

Orion flushed, bit his lip, and turned away. “Nothing. Put me down, I can walk.”

“Oh, don’t be obstinate, Pax,” Megatronus growled, hoisting Orion up and closer. “You’re drunk, drugged, and dizzy. How coordinated do you expect to be in the middle of a dark street?”

“Coordinated enough,” Orion shot back. He wriggled against Megatronus' hold on him, swinging his legs. Megatronus’ shoulder wound burned as his arm bounced, a searing lance of pain nearly causing him to drop Pax. “Put me _down._ ”

“Fine,” Megatronus snarled, tipping Pax onto his feet. Why in the Pit was Orion suddenly so determined to get away from him? He’d done nothing to offend, so far as he could tell. “There. You know the way. Why don’t you lead on, since you’re so determined to prove yourself?”

Orion huffed, turned, and wobbled dangerously. Megatronus bit back a laugh as Orion took a second fumbling step: then another, then another. His steps formed a wild zig-zag that was impossible to follow, the archivist’s characteristic grace completely absent. He looked like a Seeker jet attempting to walk on new thrusters.

Even like this, he was adorable.

Megatronus followed his progress with a small smile, staying behind him. His leg was glad for the respite, as was his back, but if Pax took one wrong step -

The clerk’s pede fell into a pothole, and he stumbled wildly, tripping forward. Megatronus swore under his breath and vaulted across the street to him, ignoring a flare of pain in his welds as he leaped in front of Orion and caught him. “Steady, Pax,” he rumbled as Orion landed against him with a loud _clang._ Orion’s palms planted flat against his chest, a startled expression crossing his face. “Steady, sweet. I have you. Now, will you stop being stubborn and allow me to carry you the rest of the way home?”

Orion tilted his head up, meeting Megatronus’ eyes. He blinked, expression alight with something like wonder, fingers splaying over Megatronus’ chest. “Wow,” he said, all wobbly smiles and sweet heat shimmer-blushes. “Hi.”

Megatronus chuckled, gently petting the shorter mech's helm. “Hello, Pax,” he said. “Did you forget I was here?”

“No, I remembered,” Orion said, with that same glowing heat. “You’re just… so… _gorgeous._ ”

Megatronus’ entire frame briefly ceased to function, like every single process that kept him running skipped a beat: a cascade of heat flooding him from helm to heels. Pax thought he was gorgeous? Pax… was _attracted_ to him?

Orion’s fingers stroked his chest, and this time, Megatronus read only _wanting_ in the gesture.

**Orion.Pax[Designation:SweetOne]=flirting???**

“Orion,” said Megatronus faintly, staring down at the archivist. “Are… are you coming onto me? ”

Orion gasped and yanked his hands away, shaking his head. “N-no! No, I would never, I just - I meant - that is - ” He stumbled, and Megatronus jumped forward to catch him, sweeping him up off the street before he could fall a second time. “Oh,” Orion whispered, clinging to his shoulders. “Oh.”

Megatronus caught Orion’s gaze and held it, bringing him in close: lifting him up just near enough that he _could_ kiss him, if he wanted to. “Orion,” he said, very softly. “You’re beautiful.”

Orion made a tiny sound, an aching little whimper at the back of his intake. “D-don’t mock me,” he said, drawing in a shaking vent. “It’s - it’s unkind - ”

“I’m not mocking you.” Primus, Megatronus wanted nothing more than to lean in and claim Orion’s mouth. “I wouldn’t dare. Not about this. Not with you.”

Orion shivered, letting his optics flutter closed. “Oh this isn’t _fair,_ ” he said. “Tomorrow I’ll wake up and you won’t be there, it won’t be like this, and I’ll have to p-pretend this never happened…”

“What?” Megatronus tilted his helm, frowning deeply. “What do you mean?”

Orion opened his optics, deep blue and full of longing. “I’m obviously dreaming again,” he said, as if it was the most logical thing in the world. “Like I always do.”

“You _dream about me?”_ The words were out before he could stop them, sharp and surprised and crackling with static. Orion Pax dreamed about him. _Orion. Pax. Dreamed. About. Him_. His processor sang, elated and aching, wild with the promise of what Orion was confessing.

Orion gave him a quizzical look. “Of course,” he said. “All the time. A-almost every… every night lately.” He smoothed a thumb over Megatronus’ cheek, barely brushing the edge of his helm. “‘Snice. Dream Megatronus likes to carry me like this.”

Megatronus smiled softly. “Apparently, so does the real one,” he said. He paused, searching Orion’s face. Did he dare to ask, to confirm what he hoped was true? “Orion. How long have you been in love with me?”

Orion’s spark seized beneath his chest, panic flickering through his field. “No, no, don’t say it out loud, don’t,” he gasped, squirming in Megatronus’ grip. “He can’t - he can’t know, I can’t tell him, _ever.”_

“Pax!” Megatronus tightened his grip, forcing the frantic archivist to still. “Pax, stop. _Why?_ Why can’t you tell me?”

Orion shook his head, hiding his face in his hands. “It’s not _right -_ he’ll _hate me,”_ he whispered. “Everyone always wants something from him. He’s just a - a _thing_ to everyone else, a toy, an icon, a fighter, a pawn.” He shuddered, lifting his face, heavy with guilt. “I can’t - I can’t want more than he can give me,” he said. “I can’t ask for anything but what I have. He has to be enough.” He reached up and seized Megatronus’ face, holding it between his hands for emphasis. _“He has to be enough.”_

Megatronus made a choked sound, struggling to control his field. “And what if _you_ were enough for him?” he asked. “What if you were all he wanted?”

Orion let him go, settling his helm against Megatronus’ shoulder. “You don’t have to say nice things to me just because it’s a dream,” he said. “I know the truth. You - you can have _anyone,_ Megatronus. Do _anything._ But I’m just a clerk. And that’s fine, it’s - it’s _fine -_ I’m just - I’m just - happy to share any time with you at all when you could be off with someone more interesting.”

Was this really what he thought? That he, Orion Pax, the archivist, the brilliant, wasn’t worthy of a gladiator? That Megatronus was above him? Megatronus stared at him, stunned. _“Orion.”_ The designation was strangled and tight in Megatronus’ intake. “Orion, Primus, don’t you know I’d give you the very sun if you asked for it?”

Orion shook his head. “‘No, Megatronus. I don’t want that. I just. Just want you. As you are. Whatever you can share with me. So don’t - don’t feel any obligation to - ”

Megatronus pulled Orion in and kissed him, hard. It was an ill-considered move, but he didn’t care: he had to taste him, had to _feel_ him, had to have Orion Pax _right this second_ -

Orion made a small, fluttery moan in the back of his intake, opening his mouth without prompting. Megatronus snarled, his temperature skyrocketing as he tongued the soft interior of Orion’s lower lip: a choked moan escaping him in turn when Orion tentatively did the same. Fresh and naive as if it was his first time. Perfection personified.

**Orion.Pax[Designation:Mine]=to KISS**

**Orion.Pax[Designation:Mine]=tobeCLAIMED**

**QUERY: CLAIM Orion.Pax now?**

**QUERY: INTERFACE ARRAY: Spike housing wishes to open. Spike pressurizing. Continue?**

Megatronus hissed and pulled back, struggling to calm the roar of his fans.

**QUERY: Dismissed. Spike Housing Access Denied.**

Orion made an angry sound, struggling to pull Megatronus’ helm back to him. “Come _here,”_ he demanded, low voice rolling over Megatronus’ frame like warm water. “I want you.”

“No, you don’t,” Megatronus said. He turned his face aside, ignoring Orion's groping hands, and started towards his quarters again, faster now. _The amount of self-control I must maintain to keep my hands off you…_ “Not like this. If you were sober… well.” By the Pit, if Orion was sober, Megatronus would have found the first slightly dark corner and fragged him into a strutless, sobbing mess. “But you aren’t, and I don’t intend for our first time to be a drunken, barely-consented to encounter.”

“I consent!” Orion said, grabbing for Megatronus’ face. “I do, Megatronus, please, I want to - ”

_“No,”_ Megatronus said, ducking out of Pax’s wild grip. _“No,_ Pax. Not like this.”

Orion had the nerve to look hurt. “You - you don’t _care_ about me.”

“I care about you more than any other mech on this entire planet,” Megatronus growled. “Which is why I _will not_ take you to my berth like this. If - _if -_ you still want me in the morning, we can talk then.”

“I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you,” Orion blurted out. His faceplates burned, a glassy, terrified expression on his face: but he couldn’t seem to stop himself, words pouring out of his mouth. “I’ve wanted you since I first heard you quoting Phalanx, since I showed you around the archives and helped you with your research, since - ”

“I understand, Pax,” Megatronus said. The arena was so close, his door mere steps away from the lifts they were approaching. His frame screamed, both in pain and desire, begging him to do as he wished.  _Control yourself. Control._ “I… feel the same. But we _can’t._ Not while you’re like this.”

“But I _want_ to,” Orion insisted. He clutched at Megatronus, kissing his chest softly, over and over: precious, feather-light kisses that teased their way over silver and red armor.

Megatronus’ temperature climbed as he watched the affectionate display, spark pulsing in his chest. When had anyone ever touched him this tenderly? He’d fragged a multitude of mechs over the years, maintaining a steady stream of partners as he rose in fame: but no one came to a gladiator for tenderness. They wanted hard, fast, violent frags that pushed them to their limits. Who better to give them that than the Champion of Champions himself? But this...

Megatronus frowned. Did Orion want that kind of interface? He couldn’t quite picture Pax begging to be fucked that way. There was a purity to him that made such thoughts anathema to everything he was. Megatronus realized, with some chagrin, that he had no idea what Orion would even enjoy in the berth. They’d never touched upon the subject, or when it nearly arose they danced around it, as if it was a grenade that might explode in their faces the instant it was mentioned.

It was clearly far past time to remedy that particular gap in his knowledge.

“Orion,” Megatronus said.

Orion smiled and nuzzled Megatronus’ chestplate before looking up into his face. “Mmm?”

Megatronus swallowed hard. “Do we… when you dream about me… do we interface?”

Orion’s faceplate flared bright with heat. “Ummm,” he said, stuttering over the sound. “Y-yes."

Primus, if _that_ wasn’t a tantalizing little tidbit. “When we interface in your dreams,” he said, tasting each word as he spoke it, “What do we do?”

Orion flushed, looking down at his own legs. “You’re going to make me say it? _Out loud?_ ”

He was _precious,_ adorably nervous in Megatronus' grip. “Shall I guess?” Megatronus said quietly. “Would that be easier for you?”

Orion’s fans made a stuttering sound. “You - want to guess? _Out loud?_ ”

“Is that a problem?”

“N-no, just… you… talking like _that…_ in that _voice…_ ” Orion hid behind his hands, shivering.

His frame was so _hot._ However humiliated he was, Pax was undeniably turned on too. Megatronus grinned, leaning in close to Orion’s audial. “Will that rev your engines, Pax?” he rumbled. “Hearing me give voice to your darkest fantasies?”

Orion _moaned,_ loudly, accompanied by a roar of engines deep in his chest.

Megatronus laughed, nuzzling Orion’s helm. “I’ll take that as an affirmative,” he said. “And as there is nothing on this planet I would enjoy more than revving your engines...”

_“Frag,”_ Orion whispered.

Megatronus made a low, dark sound, kissing Orion’s audial. “Let’s see…” he said, keeping his voice deep. “What does Orion Pax crave from the Champion of Kaon? A thorough spiking, perhaps?”

Orion made a very undignified sound, his array becoming so hot that Megatronus could feel it against his arm.

“Mmm. That’s a yes,” Megatronus said. Good. He couldn't begin to count the times he'd self-serviced to that fantasy: his sweet little archivist pinned beneath him, his spike buried inside his warm, wet heat to the hilt. _Hnnn._ His spike hardened behind its panel, aching to be set loose. “You want a gladiator, so I imagine you’ve an interest in rough fragging.”

Orion’s finials flicked downwards. “I - no, I don’t really - ”

“Really? Most mechs who desire me want me to destroy them,” Megatronus said. The words were offhanded, but the idea of taking Pax like that - sobbing and hurting and bleeding energon - made his tanks roil. “Hard, fast, violent fragging, scratching and denting their plating, biting and stretching their valves…”

He’d never been more gratified to see Orion look so horrified. “No!” he choked. “Not that, I don’t - not that.”

They were approaching the lift to the gladiators’ rooms now, and thank Primus for that, because Megatronus was unraveling himself bit by bit just by asking these questions. “Very well,” he said fondly. “I’ll admit I’m glad to hear it. I’d be disappointed if all you desired was the same repetitive fragging everyone else begs for.” He tilted his helm curiously. “Fingers, then, or tongue. You seem like you might like a warm mouth pressing kisses to your valve.”

Orion’s finials shot straight up.

Megatronus smirked. “Mm. That’s a yes, too,” he purred. “You dream of me spreading your thighs, lapping at your aching node... sinking my glossa deep inside you?”

Orion moaned sharply, peeking out from behind his hands. “Y-yes…”

“Oh, _very_ good, Orion,” Megatronus crooned. He didn’t often get the chance to eat out his partners. They wanted the big spike they’d imagined when they saw him fighting in the arena: not the other things he offered with a sly grin and a wink. “What else? Tell me.”

Orion shivered, his hands closing back over his face. “I… want… to sit in your lap,” he whispered. “With your s-s-spike in me. I want to look at you a-and kiss you and...” He made a sound, a small, embarrassed huff. “I just want to be with _you._ As close as I can be. I want…” He trailed off, other words muttered into his palms that Megatronus couldn’t hear.

“Orion,” Megatronus said, nuzzling his helm. “Orion. Sweet one. Take your hands away from your face. I can’t hear you.”

Orion lowered his hands, staring nervously at the ground. “I want to fall into recharge next to you,” he whispered, his voice cracking around the words. “And wake up with you. And maybe interface in the morning, sometimes, if you wanted to.”

It was… _so_ far from what Megatronus had expected that he stood absolutely silent, stunned and staring at the archivist. He hadn’t necessarily thought that Orion would want a rough frag, but _this -_ this soft, pure little fantasy Orion entertained of him, this sweet, affectionate daydream…

Orion Pax had taken one look at the most violent, brutal gladiator in the known galaxy and had decided, _Yes. This is the one: the mech I want to hold me, kiss me, then take me to his berth for interface so tender it could fill the pages of a two-shanix romance novel._

Primus damn him. He was  _precious._

Orion made another nervous sound and closed his optics, ducking back behind his hands. “See, I shouldn’t - I shouldn’t have even - I’m _so_ sorry, Megatronus, please forgive - ”

Megatronus gently set Orion down before the lift doors, pulled his hands away from his face, and bent to kiss him: soft this time, the lightest brush of lipplates over lipplates. Orion gave a tiny cry and threw his arms around Megatronus neck, pressing up into the kiss. He shook, but his field was a firework of happiness, a warm blanket that wrapped itself tight around Megatronus, smothering him with affection. He was sweet and ungainly and Megatronus loved him so much his very spark could explode with the intensity of the feeling -

The lift arrived with a _ding,_ and he regretfully pulled back, cupping Orion’s face in sharp-clawed servos.

“Tomorrow,” he said fiercely, staring into Orion’s face. “Tomorrow, when you are sober, we are going to discuss this, and then I am going to kiss you until you’re dizzy, and _then_ we can try all these delightful little fantasies of yours. Yes?”

Orion’s face flooded with heat, but he smiled and nodded, nuzzling into Megatronus’ palm. “Yes,” he agreed. “Yes please.”

“Good.” Megatronus pressed a tiny kiss to Orion’s helm, a soft _clink_ echoing as metal met metal. “Can you walk?”

Orion frowned, but he was steadier on his pedes than he had been, able to stand without wobbling too much. “Y-yes,” he said. “I think so.”

“Perfect. Let’s get you to berth, Pax. You need to rest.” Megatronus guided Orion into the lift and designated the gladiators’ wing, keeping his arm close around Orion’s waist.

“Mmm. Rest.” Orion snuggled under Megatronus’ arm, clinging to Megatronus’ waist in turn. “Can I sleep with you?”

“You may sleep _next to_ me,” Megatronus said, laying heavy emphasis on that phrase, _next to._ “But until you are completely sober, nothing more. Understood?”

“Mmhmm.” Orion settled comfortably against Megatronus, optics already shuttered. “G’night, Megatronus. I love you.”

Megatronus vented sharply, clinging tighter to the archivist - _his_ archivist, _his_ lover, all his.

**[Designation:MyForever]**


	5. [My.Champion=toCONFESS]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events of the previous night come rushing back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is explicit and contains graphic sex. There's also a depiction of Orion as "sealed". There are a lot of myths about the hymen and first times, two of the biggest being 1) your hymen won't break until you have sex and 2) your first time always hurts. Normally I don't like to go with an unrealistic expectation of hymens/virginity that propagates these myths, but I find the idea of mecha with plastic seals more interesting, I guess because the physicality is very different when you're a robot.
> 
> This is a long way of saying that I've included a depiction of 'loss of virginity' here mostly for the sexy value and not the realism.

Orion woke to the worst processor-ache he’d ever had.

The room he was in was dark and cool. It wasn’t his apartment, which probably should have alarmed him, but it seemed safe enough. Familiar. The whole place smelled of fuel and energon and clean, polished metal: the kind of scent that made him think of Megatronus. He smiled to himself and snuggled into the cushions, warm and happy. He could almost pretend that Megatronus was there beside him, wherever he was. The berth was still warm, as though another mech had only recently vacated the spot beside him, and the blanket there really did smell just like him -

Wait. Megatronus. _Megatronus._

Orion jerked upright with a startled sound, his short-term memory rebooting all at once. The gory details came back to him in a wave: Megatronus falling, his desperate comm, a drink at Champion’s Hall. Crosscase’s unfamiliar hands around his waist. Megatronus, looming in the doorway, perfect and glorious and everything Orion had ever wanted.

Megatronus, tossing Crosscase aside like he was made of scrap.

Megatronus carrying him. Megatronus holding him close to his chest. Orion, admitting to feelings he’d sworn never to share: pleading for kisses, for interface, like a deranged groupie.

Orion pressed a hand to his mouth, tanks roiling, wishing lightning would come and strike him dead.

“Ah. You’re awake.”

Orion looked up, feeling heat burn in his faceplates. Megatronus leaned in the doorway between the berthroom and the washracks, watching Orion with wary optics. He’d clearly just emerged from the shower, water still running in tiny rivulets over his perfect, menacing frame. The polished metal of his armor caught what little light there was, steam rising off of him in waves.

Hot as the sun and twice as deadly.

Orion swallowed hard. He couldn’t tell if he was turned on or humiliated, or both. Probably both. _Definitely_ both. Orion’s valve squeezed _,_ his spike stirring eagerly behind its panel, even as embarrassment rocketed through his frame.

“You had quite the adventure last night,” Megatronus said, studying Orion’s face. There was a question lurking in his eyes, an edge of caution to his words, as if each one had to be tested before it was spoken. Orion winced, a wave of guilt crashing over him. _You threw yourself at him like some unhinged fanmech, and now he doesn’t trust you anymore. Serves you right._ “I’m… not certain how much you remember, but - ”

“I’m _so_ sorry,” Orion blurted out.

Megatronus paused, frowning. “For... what, exactly?”

“For - for what I said - what I did.” Orion shuddered and buried his face in his hands. “I put you in danger and caused a fuss because I couldn’t - couldn’t control my own _stupid_ emotions - ”

The gladiator shifted, taking a few steps into the berthroom. “Orion,” he said softly. “No one was in any danger but you. I’m fine. You needn’t worry over me.”

“But I _do,_ ” Orion said, and wished at once that he could take it back. “No. No, I’m sorry, I’m - ” He paused, letting his vocalizer settle. He shook so hard the berth rattled beneath him, panic and want doing battle in his chest. He needed to mend this while he still could; needed to stitch up whatever wounds he had caused, if such reparation was even possible. “I… Megatronus. I never intended to tell you how I felt. Never. I know the position it puts you in, and it isn’t… it isn’t _fair_ to you. You give everything to the cause, and yet the vultures out there want still more of you: little fragments of their Champion, whatever their greedy fingers can grasp. I _know_ that, and I swore - I _swore_ I wouldn’t put you in that position. Ever. And yet I did, last night, because of a foolish mistake. Because I wandered alone when I should have known better.” He looked up, fingers clutching at the blankets, aching for what he could never have, for what he feared he might have lost. _“That_ is what I’m sorry for,” he said. “For letting my emotions get the better of me. For wanting more of you than I deserve, when you’ve given me so much.”

Megatronus stared at him, silent and immovable as a mountain. Orion shuttered his optics and hugged himself, lowering his helm. _I’m so sorry, Megatronus. I love you, I do. I love you enough to know I cannot ask that you love me back._

The gentle touch of claws beneath his chin made Orion start: Megatronus, tilting Orion’s face up to his. He was  _right there,_ sitting beside him, and he was -

He was _smiling?_

“Have I mentioned lately that you’re ridiculous?” Megatronus said. His field pulsed with warmth and affection, brushing Orion’s like a kiss.

“W-what?” Orion stuttered, unsure whether to be offended or overjoyed. “I am _not -_!”

“Yes, you are,” Megatronus said. He cocked his helm, gaze slipping downwards to Orion’s mouth, as if he was considering... no. No, that was absurd. Orion’s processor was running away with him again. Megatronus had no interest in kissing him. Did he? “Do you remember anything I said to you last night?”

“I… um…” Orion frowned, parsing through the corrupted memory files. They were beginning to repair themselves, pulling from archival memory and backup sensory data. _Voice clips… voice clips…_

**QUERY: VOICE: MEGATRONUS[DESIGNATION:MYCHAMPION]**

**Files located.**

**Megatronus[Designation:MyForever] said:**

_“I care about you more than any other mech on this entire planet.”_

_“Tomorrow, when you are sober, I am going to kiss you til you’re dizzy.”_

_“Orion, Primus, surely you know I’d give you the very sun if you asked for it…”_

Orion’s spark skipped several beats, humming with excitement and terror. His optics buzzed as they cycled wide, shrank, then widened again. “You... are you saying…?”

“I don’t know, Pax. What _am_ I saying?” Megatronus said. He was still staring at Orion’s mouth, watching his lips part as his systems vented wildly. “You have all the files.”

**Megatronus[Designation:MyChampion] said:**

_“I… feel the same.”_

“You… feel the same way about _me_?” Orion gasped.

 _“There_ we are.” Megatronus smiled, letting go of Orion’s chin and moving to cup the right side of his face instead. “How good of you to finally notice.”

Finally? Did he mean… “Wait,” Orion said, pulling out of Megatronus’ grip. Megatronus frowned, servo hovering where Orion had just been. “Wait, you mean - this _entire time_ \- ”

Megatronus arched a brow ridge. “Yes?”

Orion made an undignified static sound. “All these years, _you’ve been in love with me?_ ”

The instant he said it, he regretted it. It wasn’t possible. There’d clearly been a misunderstanding. Any second now, Megatronus would pull away from him in disgust, tossing him from his quarters, and he would never see his Champion again, save from the stands: save for the day when he triumphed or when he fell...

But Megatronus merely heaved an exasperated, if fond, sigh. _“Yes,_ Orion, for literal stellar cycles. I wasn’t even particularly subtle about it. And yet, somehow, you remained oblivious - though in fairness, I never realized you felt the same way, either.” He closed his hand over Orion’s arm and tugged. “Come here, sweet one.”

Orion let Megatronus pull him in close, falling against the gladiator’s chest with a soft, surprised sound. He was huge and warm, engines humming softly beneath Orion’s audial. Orion clung to him, vents hiccuping as he tried to process what was happening.

All this time, he’d restrained himself: convinced himself that Megatronus was above him, that Megatronus would never want him. He’d spent decades longing to curl up against Megatronus’ side, recharge in his berth, kiss him, hold him, _ride him -_ and it turned out he could have been doing _all_ of it if he’d ever bothered to ask.

He’d wasted so much precious time. So much, just by doubting.

“B-but - I thought - ” He wrenched himself back out of Megatronus’ grip, earning an irritated hiss from the gladiator. “I thought you would never _-_ I’m nothing, I’m no one!”

Megatronus growled. He’d captured Orion’s helm in both his hands before Pax could even blink, cupping his face so that he couldn’t look away. “Since you seem to struggle with subtleties, let me be _very_ clear,” he said. His optics burned with an intensity Orion had never seen before, a nearly religious fervor: worshipful and wild. “You are a brilliant, intelligent, capable, and brave mech, one who saw a gladiator in an archive and believed he deserved to be there as much as you did. There are not many on this planet who would have stood by me then as you did. As you have continued to do.”

He paused, palm curving to Orion’s helm, fingers easing a tender caress over the metal. “Orion,” he said fiercely, his grip tightening in emphasis. “You are _so much more_ than nothing and no one. You are, and always have been, _everything_ to me _._ I would raize cities and slaughter armies at your behest; and if, when I stand triumphant over the ashes of our oppressors, you are not at my side… it will be no victory worth having.”

Oh, Primus. Orion’s vents stuttered, his spark wild and happy in his chest. “I love you,” he breathed, hardly believing he was saying the words aloud. “Megatronus, I love you so much - ”

Megatronus made a husky sound, pulling Orion into kiss.

Orion’s every strut burned molten-hot with want. He’d repressed his feelings for Megatronus until it nearly broke him, and now at last he could unleash _everything._ He clung to the gladiator as if he would fall straight into space if he didn’t, moaning quietly when Megatronus pressed him down, down into the softness of the berth. He’d fantasized about this exact scenario for so long that experiencing it in reality was surreal: the heat of Megatronus’ frame above him, the tug of his valve beneath his panel as his legs opened to fit the gladiator between them. His temperature climbed, fans rising from a whimper to a howl, as he ran a hand over Megatronus’ armored chest, seeking and finding every sensitive spot within his reach.

Megatronus hissed and slid his hand between Orion’s legs. Orion groaned and spread himself wide, deepening the kiss: groping for Megatronus’ panel with his free hand when he had the presence of mind to do so. Megatronus caught it and pulled it aside when it touched him. “Not yet,” he whispered against Orion’s mouth. “Let me tend to you first.”

Orion made a sound he knew he’d cringe about later: a desperate, aching moan as Megatronus dipped to his chest and pressed a kiss over the hidden place where his spark beat, glossa just barely tracing the metal and glass beneath. “Mega - ”

Megatronus nipped the edge of the windows in his chest, and Orion gasped, arching up off the berth. Primus, that felt good; better than he’d ever thought a bite could feel. “Oh - ” he said, gripping Megatronus’ shoulders tightly. “Oh Megs please again - ”

Megatronus rumbled, deep in his fighter’s frame: a vibration Orion felt all the way through to his deepest circuits. “You are absolutely breathtaking,” the gladiator said. “You know that, don’t you?” He tongued the space between the windows more deliberately this time, massaging Orion’s hips. His thumbs traced little circles over Orion’s panel, electric sparks leaping to life where he touched.

Orion’s voxcorder bleated static. He bit his lower lip as Megatronus inched lower, kissing and biting his stomach plates with laser-like focus. “I’m - I’m not special - ”

Megatronus’ helm snapped upward, optics smoldering. “Yes, you are,” he said. “You are my perfect, precious and fiercely adored archivist. I’d kill every last mech on this planet for you if you asked.”

Orion blushed, shivering a moment later when Megatronus dipped down to leave a love bite on his hip plate for emphasis. “O-oh - I would never - n-never ask that of you, Megatron _us-!_ ”

The last syllable was torn from his tongue as Megatronus kissed his modesty panel, ghosting a vent over the rapidly heating metal. “You have the worst time with my name when you’re impaired, don’t you?” he laughed. “We’ll have to do something about that.”

“S-sorry,” Orion panted. “So sorry, Megatronus, I - oh please - ”

He didn’t even know what he was asking for, but he wanted _more:_ wanted to feel Megatronus all around him, inside him, everywhere. He clutched at Megatronus’ shoulders, scraping over the weld that had sealed his wound, stroking it with tender fingers.

“Mmm.” Megatronus ran his glossa over the superheated metal, optics hooded and glowing. “You beg so prettily, sweet one. But I don’t see you leaking from this lovely panel yet. Just another thing we’ll have to remedy, don’t you think?”

Leaking? Orion pressed his hips into Megatronus’ mouth, turning the word over in his mind. How was he supposed to leak when he was still -

Oh. _Oh._

“Wait,” Orion said, sitting up. “Megatronus, wait!”

Megatronus looked up, startled, pushing himself upright. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Did I hurt you? Are you - ”

“I’m fine,” Orion assured him, reaching out for his hand. “Megs, I’m - I’m fine. And I want this, and I want you, but I… have neglected to tell you something.”

Something suspicious and angry flickered across Megatronus’ face, an ominous hum sounding in his field before he closed himself entirely. “Neglected to tell me?” he repeated. There was a distrustful edge to his voice that was completely unfamiliar: a wariness he’d not displayed with Orion since the earliest days of their acquaintance. “What could you possibly have kept from me all these years, Orion?”

“I…” The shift in his mood threw Orion off-balance. Megatronus was mercurial by nature, swinging from one extreme to the next at the flip of a switch; but to switch from absolute joy to _this…_ “It’s just… um… I still have my seals.”

The pronouncement shocked Megatronus out of his fit of temper. The sound of several internal systems stalling at once echoed in his small berthroom, his vents hitching loudly. _“What?”_

Orion winced. “I… am still sealed,” he repeated. “I’ve never wanted to interface with anyone else before you, so I just… never troubled with it.” That sounded… bad, didn’t it? Phrased like that? It sounded _needy._ “Not - I don’t say that to put pressure on you, please don’t think that - ”

Megatronus’ expression shifted from shocked to smiling: soft and full of warmth again. “Pax. You are ridiculous. Have I said that yet today?”

Orion pursed his lips. “It may have come up.”

Megatronus laughed quietly. “You made the pronouncement with such gravitas, I thought you’d hidden something far more serious.”

Orion tilted his helm, wearing a small frown. “What else would I have hidden from you?”

Some tension returned to Megatronus’ shoulders, that same tight, wary look in his optics. “I… thought you were going to tell me you were joined with someone else. In Iacon.”

Orion gave a tiny cry, horror filling his field. No wonder Megatronus had been so angry. “Primus, no!” he said. “Why - why would I ever -?”

Megatronus shrugged, as if it was nothing; as if the matter didn’t trouble him at all. “You would not have been the first,” he said, a trace of bitterness lacing his voice. “Most mechs do not have your… _consideration_ for the feelings of a fighter in the Pits. I have found myself a plaything of far too many elites, most of whom had someone at home waiting for them.” He worked his jaw, glancing down at his clawed hands. “I don’t think I could take that kind of betrayal from you.”

Orion’s spark twisted, imagining a fresh-faced Megatronus, new to the Pits and newly a Champion, finding again and again that he was nothing but some rich mech’s side piece. He ached for him then: for all of the things Megatronus had suffered. He caught Megatronus’ hand in his and brought it up to his lips, kissing his fingers. “I’m  _so_ sorry, my love. You deserve so much more than that.”

Megatronus vented sharply, systems humming an uneven song. “I… Orion, you don’t have to - ”

Orion turned his hand over, palm up, and pressed a kiss to the scarred center: then another, then another.

“By the _Primes,”_ Megatronus hissed, voice tight and hot with arousal. “Pax, if you have anything else to tell me, do it quickly. I am perhaps three kliks away from losing all self restraint.”

Orion chuckled against Megatronus’ palm, a low hum that actually made Megatronus shiver. Oh, that was wonderful: knowing he had the same effect on his beloved that the gladiator had on him. “That was all,” he said. He nuzzled into the hand he held, pressing another kiss to it. “I… expected it to be more of a problem.”

“I would be a madmech to hate the idea of being your first,” Megatronus said. “No, sweet one, I have no quarrel with you over this. I am… _delighted,_ to be honest.” He tugged his hand away from Orion and patted his lap in invitation, wearing a shameless grin. _Oh Primus yes._ It took every ounce of willpower Orion possessed not to leap across the berth to him. “Though I am no longer surprised that your particular fantasies tend towards the romantic.”

Orion tilted his helm, frowning as he moved to join Megatronus. “My fant- ?” Oh. Oh, Vector Sigma, he’d blurted out his dreams to Megatronus while he was drunk. A corrupted memory file in the midst of repairs loaded: his own slurring voice announcing that yes, he _would_ like Megatronus to eat him out, please, and _yes,_ he wanted to cuddle and have soft morning sex and be held close to Megatronus’ chest. “Ah. Right.”

Megatronus smiled, the sort of tender smile that was foreign to him under normal circumstances. It was enough for Orion to feel less embarrassed as he climbed into Megatronus’ lap, knees resting on either side of Megatronus’ hips. “Mmm,” Megatronus rumbled, wrapping an arm around Orion’s waist and pulling him in close. “That’s much better, isn’t it.”

It wasn’t really a question. Orion shivered as Megatronus bent to kiss his intake, slow and soft and promising so much more. “So. You’ve never done this before,” the gladiator breathed, hand sliding lower. Orion gave a tiny moan as Megatronus’ fingers curved around his aft, lifting him up.

“Not this,” he said, clinging to Megatronus’ shoulders. “I have… um… some idea of things that I enjoy, however.”

Megatronus made a low, feral sound, predatory and seductive; sharp dentae pressing against Orion’s intake. “Is that right?” he purred. “And how did you discover _that,_ I wonder?”

Orion shuttered his optics, wishing the ground would swallow him. “Um.”

“Does my archivist _self-service,_ perhaps?” said Megatronus, in that same husky murmur: a hot whisper right against Orion’s audial that slid down his spinal struts and directly to his array.

Orion squirmed, wishing desperately that he could hide his face. “I - if I say yes… and if I admit it was always you I thought about… is that _wrong?”_

Megatronus’ engine revved, his hand clutching tight around Orion’s aft. “I should have pinned you to my berth and fragged you senseless _eons_ ago,” he hissed. “How many times?”

“Countless,” Orion whispered, moaning sharply when Megatronus licked his audial. He could feel wetness gathering thickly behind his seal: the slick slide of lubricant filling him up, preparing him to take a spike. Megatronus’ spike. Pits, what a thought.

 _“Mmm. Orion Pax,_ you filthy little creature,” Megatronus purred. “And here I thought you were so _innocent._ How many times a day, then?”

Oh, _slag._ Maybe the floor would swallow him before he had to answer. Maybe Megatronus would frag the answer out of him. Either would be acceptable. “Depends,” he said, voice low and quivering.

“On _what?_ ” The words were a low growl, emphasized with a squeeze of his aft. Orion yelped, squirming in Megatronus’ lap. “Don’t be shy. Flatter me. Tell me what you overloaded to, there on your little berth in Iacon.”

Orion whimpered, biting his lip. “I wasn’t… always… in Iacon,” he choked out.

It took a moment for Megatronus to understand the implication. “Oh?” he said, idly amused. “Where else would you…”

He froze, his processor catching up with the rest of him. For a moment, Megatronus looked as though he’d been struck by lightning. Then his field erupted in static and heat, engines revving so violently Orion’s entire frame shook. “Do you mean to tell me you’ve _self-serviced in my quarters?!”_

Orion flinched, blushing with shame. “Y-yes…”

His engines revved _again,_ damn him, vibrating hard against Orion’s panel. _“Where? ”_ Megatronus caught his chin in his hand and forced him to meet his eyes. His voice was a hungry rasp, ravenous and eager and desperately aroused. “Tell me _every single spot_ in these rooms where you overloaded,” he ordered. “Tell me _everything,_ Pax.”

Orion shivered, closing his optics. “I - ”

 _“Look at me."_  The command brooked no argument. Orion onlined his optics, faceplates burning. “Good,” Megatronus said, optics bright and unblinking. “I want to look you in the eye while you confess to every debauched little fantasy you popped your panels to here.”

Orion moaned, hips jerking forward: unconsciously attempting to ride the spike Megatronus was still keeping from him. “Sometimes I’d do it in your berth,” he said, the words coming in harsh gasps. “While you were in the washracks, or busy with fans, or meeting with the press. You almost caught me once.”

“I wish to Primus I had,” Megatronus growled. “Where else?”

“Th-the couch, while you were sleeping…” He couldn’t believe he was telling Megatronus this; he’d never told _anyone_ about this secret, indulgent habit he’d grown addicted to over the years. “Sometimes in the morning, when you were awake, or waking up.”

“You _wanted_ me to catch you,” said Megatronus, grinning broadly. He bucked upwards, his panel scraping against Orion’s, and Orion sobbed, pressing into the touch.

“Yes, yes, I did,” he admitted, panting as he ground down harder against Megatronus’ panel. “Sometimes that was the entire fantasy.”

 _“Slagging Pit, Orion.”_ Megatronus clutched at Orion’s hips, pressing into the wanton movement. The metal between his legs _burned,_ scorching with lust. “And when I left you here alone to rest?”

“Depends on if I dreamed,” Pax said, breathless, grinding down on the hot panel beneath him. “Oh, please, can I open, can we - ”

“Not yet,” Megatronus rasped. His mouth hung slack, chest hitching as Pax rutted against him. “When you dreamed of me… when I left you on that little couch… did you wake up and self service?”

Orion swallowed. “Yes,” he whispered. “On the couch, in the washracks, in your berth… sometimes for hours.”

 _“Primus,"_  Megatronus snarled. He kissed Orion’s intake, nipping at a fuel cable there, and oh how could that feel so _good,_ how could the sweep of his tongue after draw such _wetness_ from his valve -

“Spike or node, Orion?” Megatronus demanded.

Orion jumped, plating rattling with humiliation. “Wha - you can’t just _ask me_ if I prefer - ”

“I just did.” Megatronus lowered both hands to Orion’s hips, leaning back so he could look Orion directly in the eyes: a predatory glint in his optics. “Spike or node?” he repeated, pushing Orion’s hips down: dragging them forward, then pressing them back, til Pax was all but riding him. The spot where his spike sat was so _hot_. It hummed with energy as Orion’s panel passed over it, as if it was drawn to the closed-off valve it felt above it. He moaned and shoved a finger between his teeth, biting down to quiet the sound.

“Ah ah,” Megatronus chided. “Don’t do that, sweet one. I want to hear every little sound you make. Take it out.”

Orion obediently lowered his hand, whimpering as Megatronus increased the pressure on his hips. “Mega, please,” he begged, feeling still more wetness gathering atop his seal. “I _need_ you - ”

“Then answer my question, little archivist,” Megatronus said. His claws scraped lines of fire across Orion’s frame, sparking against the metal and drawing a hiccup of static from Pax. “Spike. Or. Node?”

Orion shivered, the glass in his chest rattling as his vents stuttered, a wave of pleasure crackling over him. “Node,” he said at last, barely above a whisper. “I like touching my node best.”

“ _Good,_ ” Megatronus crooned, baring his teeth. “Good, Pax. I can’t _wait_ to see it. To watch it pulse as you overload. To _taste_ it.”

Hearing him say it in that same rumbling voice that spoke so eloquently of philosophy and oppression made Orion go weak and shaky and hot all over. _“Mega,"_  he whimpered, pressing himself down: desperate for friction, desperate to have his Champion inside him. “Can - _gh -_ can I pull my panel back now?”

“So eager!” Megatronus laughed, kissing Orion’s jaw. “But no, pet, not yet. I want you nice and wet before I take your seal.”

“I _am_ nice and wet,” Orion growled. “I can feel it against the seal, there’s so much it’s pressing it down - ”

“Oh, aren’t _you_ a pretty mess,” Megatronus purred. “My filthy little archivist just _aches_ for spike.”

“Only yours,” Orion said. Megatronus had stopped holding his hips. He was grinding against Megatronus of his own accord, without even noticing he was doing so. Megatronus watched him with a lazy smirk, shivering when Orion hit a particularly tender spot on his array. Orion swallowed a moan, imagining that he was poised over Megatronus’ spike, imagining the slow pull of it inside him where his valve squeezed and ached, beyond the seal that marked him as _new_ and _untaken._

“Good,” Megatronus said. One of his hands clutched possessively at Orion’s hip. “The thought of another mech laying hands on you… seeing you like this… I don’t think that I could permit that.” Something dark and possessive spread like an inky cloud through his field. He caught Orion’s chin in one hand and held it, staring into Orion’s eyes. “Tell me you’re mine,” he ordered: like a military commander instead of a lover.

Orion shivered, fear and arousal mingling in his frame. “I - I’m yours, Megatronus, always - ”

“No one will ever, _ever,_ touch you like this but me,” said Megatronus. His grip tightened, the sickly light in his optics growing. “You _belong_ to me, Pax. Forever. My mate. My spark. My sweet one. _Mine._ ”

Orion shuddered. “Megatr- ”

“Say it, Orion,” Megatronus demanded. His claws lanced bright pinpricks of pain through Orion’s neural net, exploding like stars behind his lids when he blinked. “Say that you belong to me.”

“I - I belong to you,” he stuttered, “And always have… my Champion.”

Megatronus’s optics cycled bright and wide at the endearment, all the darkness that had consumed him disappearing at once. His panel snapped back, and Orion _felt_ him: the swell of his spike beneath him, hot and hard and twitching with desire. Orion looked down, devouring it with his eyes. It was _monstrous,_ like Megatronus, thick and covered in ridges that would grant no quarter to any node inside him. Red biolights flared brightly on either side, pulsing as it pressurized.

It was _beautiful._

Orion gasped as his own panel snapped back without his command, his valve pressing hotly against the spike below him. Despite the seal that held back most of his lubricant, a slickness had formed around his entrance, leaving a damp trail along Megatronus’ spike when Orion rutted against it, barely able to restrain himself.

 _“Pits, ”_ Megatronus groaned, staring at Orion’s array: his little flickering blue node, the silver-white lips that hugged his unit, Orion’s own blue spike jutting proudly from its housing. “You are _perfect.”_

Pax ground down onto the spike between his legs, shuddering as his node brushed against a thick ridge. “Ooh - Mega, please, _please_ can we frag now - ”

Megatronus made a frustrated sound and lifted Pax off his lap. “No, not yet,” he said. “I want this to be good for you. I want it to be everything you hoped for.”

“It _is,”_ Orion insisted, trying to crawl back to his lover. “Just let me - !”

 _“No.”_ Megatronus loomed over him, pushing him back down into the berth. “Let me at least get my mouth on you first.”

 _“Oh Primus fuck,”_ Orion whispered, fans screaming into overdrive. “I… yes. That… will suffice.”

Megatronus grinned, easing himself down Orion’s body: slowly and deliberately turning his optics to the valve spread out before him. “Oh, you are _exquisite,_ ” he purred. He laid his hands against Orion’s thighs and pressed them further apart. Orion felt a tug as his valve lips gently parted, revealing the thin layer that sealed his aching channel. “This little valve of yours is stunning.”

He was so _lewd -_ exactly as Orion had imagined he would be. Orion loved every second of it, every filthy word that dropped from his lips. “Please - ”

Megatronus smirked, sank down between his thighs, and pressed the flat of his glossa to Orion’s glowing node.

“Hh-!” he gasped, helm falling back as the first slow lick circled the aching sensor cluster. “Oh, Megatronus, oh _more -!_ ”

_::Good?::_

Orion nodded frantically, grateful for the comm. “So good,” he said, squirming, bucking into Megatronus’ mouth. “Please, just a little more, I need - ”

Megatronus’ optics hooded as he flicked his glossa against the throbbing node, and Orion cried out, pleasure wreaking havoc on his neural net. “Yes,” he panted, groping for Megatronus’ helm. “Oh, yes, yes, that feels so good, _yes_ \- ”

Megatronus made a low, pleased sound and pressed Orion down with one clawed hand, holding him still. He wasn’t a small mech, really, but Megatronus still dwarfed him in strength. The pure, raw power of his form was unbearably alluring. Orion cried out, hiding his face behind his hands. He could feel so much wetness gathered behind his seal, pressing slick and heavy against it, the pressure nearly unbearable…

“Ah - please - I need you inside me,” he gasped, spreading his legs wider. He could feel the pull and tug of that little seal, desperate to break, desperate to open him. “Please!”

Megatronus’ engine revved, _loudly,_ so clearly he’d enjoyed that. _::You are a vile temptress, Orion::,_ Megatronus commed him, tongue still buried between his thighs. _::But we’ve barely started. You need more time.::_

Orion balled his fingers into fists, arching desperately against Megatronus’ mouth. “I don’t, I swear," he panted. “I can take it, I can take you, I promise!”

 _::You most assuredly cannot, sweet one.::_ Megatronus replied, closing his lips around the little node.

He sucked, lapping at its underside, and pleasure shot through Orion like a lightning bolt. He cried out aloud, bucking into Megatronus’ mouth. He spiraled upwards, higher and higher, his whole frame shaking as he groped for Megatronus’ helm, pushing himself into that incredible sensation _._ Megatronus snarled as he was forced in close, mouth flat against Orion’s valve. The sound vibrated up through Orion’s array, zinging through his spinal strut and up, up, fogging his neural net with what felt like fireworks -

Suddenly the pressure inside his valve broke with a _snap,_ only to be replaced with an even _deeper_ pressure: something buried inside of him. Orion shouted, dimly aware of a rush of wetness over his aft, down onto the berth, all over his array.

His seal had been broken.

It hadn’t even _hurt._

Oh, the thing inside him felt so _good,_ lighting up nodes he’d never been able to reach before. His valve clutched at the digit within it, a rhythmic pulse that matched the pace of Megatronus’ tongue against his anterior node. He forced himself to look down, to _watch,_ to see what his lover was doing, and oh he was so beautiful and thrumming with pleasure, glorious perfection, better than any fantasy Orion had ever had...

Orion’s thighs clamped tight around Megatronus’ helm. Megatronus moaned against him, shivering all over, a clatter of armor plating echoing. Then Orion was even _fuller,_ whatever was inside him doubling in size: two digits curling within his valve, easing open his calipers. _Fingers._ Megatronus had two fingers buried inside him, and oh Primus if that wasn’t the hottest thing Orion could possibly have imagined just then.

Megatronus scissored his fingers wide, and Orion sobbed, just on the brink of overload, arching up into his lover’s mouth. He shouted something, he didn’t even know what; too desperate and focused on the steady heat between his legs to care.

Then Megatronus pulled out entirely, withdrawing his mouth and his hand in one smooth, slick motion.

 _“No!"_  Orion cried, grasping for Megatronus. “No please don’t stop, not now, please!”

Megatronus’ only reply was a fearsome grin, somehow no less intimidating for the lubricant around his mouth. He paused, taking his sweet time licking his fingers clean - which, _Vector Sigma,_ why hadn’t Orion thought about how slagging _sexy_ that would be - before turning and pulling Orion into his lap. He clung to Megatronus’ intake, feeling his soaking valve slide against the tip of the gladiator’s spike and oh, _oh,_ that’s why he’d stopped, he was finally going to get what he wanted, oh _yes -_

Megatronus kissed Orion’s audial, vents grating and harsh. “Are you ready?” he asked.

Orion nodded, squirming eagerly, positioning himself so that he could feel his valve slowly parting around the spike’s head. “Yes, yes, I’m so ready, take me - !”

Megatronus made a low, predatory sound, caught Orion’s hips, and pushed inside him.

 _“Ah!"_  Orion shot straight up, stunned at the pressure, the _stretch_ he felt as the head slipped past his entrance. He was optic to optic with Megatronus, panting and overeager, struggling to push himself down onto that glorious spike. It was so slagging _big,_ even as slick as his valve was: it was a massive effort to take the even the head.

 _“Hh,”_ Megatronus hissed, gripping Orion’s hips so hard they dented. “Am I hurting you?”

“No,” Orion said, shaking his head. “No, you’re incredible, you feel _amazing - ah -_ please, I want to take you to the hilt…”

Megatronus snarled low in his intake. “Oh, sweet one, you are going to get every last inch,” he said. “Spread your legs for me, Orion. Good, perfect, you’re doing so _well_.”

That was so lovely, all that praise purred in that rasping voice. Orion made a fluttery little sound and leaned forward, planting a sweet, slow kiss on Megatronus’ lips. Megatronus returned the kiss with an aching cry, slowly easing himself inside Orion inch by precarious inch. One moment he’d press into Orion, slowly, sweetly: then he’d drag himself back out again, equally slow, letting Orion feel every single inch as it slipped out of him. Then in again, harder, firmer: going a little deeper each time he thrust back into him.

He was so _big,_ Orion felt dizzy even attempting to take him like this: an inexorable stretch that pressed limits he wasn’t even aware he had. He’d never in his life felt so good.

“You’re beautiful,” Megatronus murmured against Orion’s mouth. “You’re perfect like this. S-so soft and warm and - ” He choked, a thick ridge sliding past Orion’s opening. Orion’s mouth fell open, a full-body crackle of charge dancing over him as his valve stretched around the ridge to accommodate it. He’d ached to feel this full without ever understanding how good it would really feel: how _right._ His calipers twitched and squeezed, clutching at the spike within him as it slipped ridge by ridge outward, then in again, slowly.

Megatronus moaned sharply, leaning his helm against Orion’s. “You fit me like you were made to hilt me,” he said. His vocalizer trembled, his servos soothing sweet fire over Orion’s hips. He was so close and strong and certain, and Orion wanted nothing more than to sob out that he loved him, that he would die for him, that he would do anything Megatronus asked of him, forever. But all that came out was a quavering cry as Megatronus slid into him, deeper than he’d yet reached, almost to the base of his spike.

“Mega,” he gasped, optics hazy and glitching with pleasure. “Oh love _please -_ ”

“Tell me what you need,” Megatronus murmured, leaning in to kiss Orion’s audial.

“Ooh can you - oh can you rub - ”

 _“Yes."_  He’d pressed his thumb to Orion’s anterior node before Orion could even finish the thought.

Orion arched, head tilting back, a sweet, low note escaping his vocalizer. “Yes, oh _yes,_ my Champion -!”

A rasping moan ripped itself out of Megatronus’ throat. _“Orion,"_  he hissed between tightly clenched teeth: his spike pressing ever inward, deeper still, until Orion _finally_ hit its base. The tip pressed against his ceiling node, lightly at first, then harder, _harder,_ an explosion of sensation erupting inside him. “Primus, I love you, I would _kill_ for you, sweet one - ”

“Mega -!” Orion sobbed, pushing himself down: digging into this feeling, this fullness, the crackling fire where their frames met and joined. He rode a sweeping tidal wave of light and feeling, charge licking every inch of his plating: a steady heat building and building and building between his legs. His valve tried to squeeze, but found it couldn’t; tried to ease from the spike’s tip, only to rub even harder against it. Static shock danced up and down Orion’s spine, his whole frame burning hot. “Please, love, oh I’m - ”

Megatronus increased the pressure of his thumb, rubbing rough circles into the aching node at the apex of Orion’s slick channel. “Good,” he crooned, pressing kisses to Orion’s cheek. “Good, that’s so _good,_ Pax. Overload for me, sweet one. Overload for your Champion.”

Orion’s frame _jolted,_ a blaze of pleasure stampeding through his circuits. The wave picked up speed, crested, and then oh Primus there it was, brilliant light and color and the sound of his hoarse voice crying out, riding out wave after wave after wave of charge. His hips were moving, but not by his command: trying desperately to milk the spike within him. Every time it brushed his ceiling node his charge seemed to peak _again,_ flaring bright as he erupted all over. At some point he was aware of heat, a bursting warmth inside of him so wet and deep that it could only be Megatronus’ overload. He felt the gladiator’s hands on him, felt claws scraping over his back as Megatronus clung to him in a stranglehold grip. Megatronus must have called for him, must have cried out: he could hear an echo in his audials, but it was all so much, so much, so _good -_

At last charge slowed and ebbed away, and Orion sagged, fans roaring, clinging tightly to his lover.

His Champion.

Megatronus.

His processor glitched, blue-screened, and clicked off. Orion sighed, slipping into darkness with a smile on his lipplates, safe and sound in Megatronus’ arms.


	6. [Designation:Mine]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cuddles and cuteness after a morning's frag.

When he came back online, he was splayed across Megatronus’ chest, the gladiator’s arm holding him close. Megatronus was busy with a datapad, reading intently, but he paused when he felt Orion stirring, smiling down at him. “I was beginning to consider calling a medic,” he said. “Do you always sleep that deeply after an overload?”

Orion smiled back at him,  reaching up to wrap his hand around Megatronus’ helm. “Mmm. Not usually… but to be fair, that was the first and most thorough frag I’ve ever had.” He pulled Megatronus down to him, planting a slow, sweet kiss on the gladiator’s mouth. “Hi.”

“Hello, sweet one,” Megatronus murmured, easing a hand over Orion’s hip. “Are you alright?”

“Mmm. Never better,” Orion said, and meant it. He checked his chronometer, grumbling to himself when he saw the time. “Ugh. I’m meant to catch a bridge back to Iacon in a few hours.”

“No.”

Orion frowned, looking up into Megatronus’ face. “What?”

“No,” Megatronus repeated. There was no malice in his expression: he was simply issuing an order, as he was used to doing within the arena. “You can groundbridge to Iacon tomorrow for your shift. I’ll go with you, I have datapads to return anyway. Then when your shift is over, we’ll get some of your things and bring them here. Just in case.”

Orion arched both brow ridges. “Are you commanding me to move in with you?” He pressed a hand over his spark. “It’s been three entire hours, Mega. I thought you’d never ask.”

Megatronus laughed, nuzzling Orion’s helm. “I am merely suggesting that you bring a few things here in case you get… held up.”

“Oh? Why would I ever be held up?” Orion’s panel was heating already, valve aching and stretched and wet, ready for more. “I know you would _never_ make me late to a shift just for the sake of interface. The maintainenance of our planet’s knowledge is an important endeavor, after all.”

“Perish the thought! How indecent.” Megatronus leaned in to kiss Orion’s intake, and Orion shivered, moaning softly. “Hmm. Now that I’m thinking about it…”

“Hmmm?” Orion stretched and arched up underneath Megatronus. “Thinking about what?”

Megatronus cast him a provocative little grin. “In all of your fevered fantasies about me,” he said, “Did you ever, by chance, set any of them in the Archives?”

Orion’s faceplates flamed hot. “I - ”

Megatronus bared his teeth, vicious and predatory, as his hand slid between Orion’s legs, rubbing teasingly at his closed panel. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I never self-serviced there!” Orion exclaimed. “I don’t want to lose my _job._ ”

Megatronus moved to kiss his shoulder, brushing his lips over the kibble there. “Well, if all else fails, I happen to have an opening for a kept man. I’m told I can be difficult to work under, but given your _exemplary_ performance this morning, I think you’d manage just fine.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” Orion said, smiling despite himself. “I don’t care for working nights.”

“You’ll find the schedule is flexible,” Megatronus purred. “A few hours in the morning might complete your daily work.”

“It absolutely will not,” Orion laughed. “I know you too well. Your appetites won’t be satisfied by _a few hours in the morning.”_

“I said _might.”_ Megatronus bent to kiss Orion, smiling against his mouth when Orion gave a contented sigh. “And you have your _own_ appetites to consider, sweet one. It wasn’t _me_ who self-serviced all over your apartment, after all.”

Orion groaned, hiding his face behind his hands. “Well… you have me there.”

Megatronus chuckled, fondly nuzzling his cheek. “Orion,” he said, his voice growing serious. “Stay with me tonight.”

Orion bumped his forehelm against Megatronus’, petting him affectionately. “I have to go back to Iacon sometime, love.”

“But not tonight,” Megatronus said. There was a hint of worry and need in his voice, buried under a sultry rumble. “Not when you could be here with me.” He grinned, though it was tight. “There are so many things we didn’t get to try…”

Orion thought of all the time he’d wasted wishing, desiring exactly this: desiring Megatronus, aching to be close to him. Years of wanting, and finally he had all that he had hoped for. Megatronus was even begging him to stay, in his own way - though of course he never outright _begged._

But he was on duty the next morning, early - and if this morning had been any indication, he doubted very much that he’d be recharging through the night.

Still, the thought of his cold little berth in Iacon sounded… miserable. Lonely. Like he’d be spending the night wishing he was in Kaon instead.

Oh, to the Pit with Iacon. The Archives would still be there in the morning.

Orion smiled and shifted, parting his legs for Megatronus. “Mmm. About that kept man position…”

Megatronus smiled, fierce and possessive, and pulled Orion up to him, dragging him into kiss.


End file.
